electric feel
by mmacy
Summary: what I imagine happening after the inaugural ball.
1. Chapter 1

Electric Feel

AN: Hey y'all! I'm back (and suffering separation anxiety because the show ended) Here's just a quick little fic I've had stored away since the beginning of the season. Andddd smut's just not my thing so if anyone wants to adopt this for a second chapter, I encourage you to go for it! This week is finals week so I am very very very busy, but I just wanted to post to ensure you that I'm still here. Once Christmas break starts you'll be getting more from me. I'm finishing up 'here for you' but after that… there's something big coming, and of course I also have a huge list of one shots I plan on writing along with a few other multi chaps! I am very excited and hope you all continue to read and write (even if the series is over) I'm NOT letting go of these characters, and I think I may lose it if this fandom dies. But I ensure you (even if my updating isn't consistent because of school) there will always be a new story from me to read (as long as you keep reading and reviewing them) Okay that's enough of me rambling. I'm currently in the middle of writing chapter three of my 'something big', sooo if any of you would like to take a look and provide me with some constructive feedback (I'm struggling a bit) I'd greatly appreciate your help! Happy reading! :) And I beg you all to keep writing! I need to pretend the show isn't over (and read other writer's crazy ideas) Oh and this is borderline m rated. I don't really like the ratings because one person's definition could be different than someone else's. So be warned. And yes I do call Elizabeth liz occasionally (typically only when H and E are by themselves) in some of my stories, but I find the nickname cute. Oh and yes this was inspired by the song electric feel… hahah I don't really know where it came from.

~MS~

His head was spinning due to the overwhelming nature of the seemingly never-ending celebration. While he could attribute his giddy dizziness to the sizeable amount of alcohol he'd consumed throughout the day, he chose to believe his current state of mind resulted from the time enjoyed with friends and family, and of course shaking the many hands of everyone who was anyone in Washington. If his wife was here right now listening in to his thoughts, she'd certainly blame it all on the liquor, reminding him of the incident of '07 at the Ramussen's lake house, and telling him that nothing good ever came out of him day drinking.

He'd been up since five, his wife even earlier than that, and it was now going on two am. And while he was tired, he was also unsettled. The adrenaline, the rush of beginning this new adventure, pumped through his veins. He didn't want to sleep, there were too many exciting ideas plaguing his mind, but he knew as soon as his head hit the pillow he'd be out like a light.

He stood in front of his bed side table, struggling to unclasp the latch on his watch. He toyed with it for a moment, loosening the knot in his tie in the process. And just as he unfastened the clasp and distributed the object into the metal bowl sitting on the tabletop, he heard the distinct loud swoosh swoosh sound of fabric. He turned his head, looking towards the doorway just in time to see the once slightly opened door being thrown open, nearly hitting the wall behind it.

He smiled slightly before biting his bottom lip, trying to suppress his laughter upon witnessing his wife stumble forwards. "Hey babe." He called as he watched her attempt to kick the door shut with her foot, but she failed at the simple task. She leaned back against the wood; her body weight clicking the door fully closed. Her head fell back against the panel, eliciting a thud, as her eyes darted towards him. She stared at him, chest heaving, mouth agape before her lips upturned and she let out a breathy laugh.

"You okay?" Henry asked as he sat down on the edge of their bed, preparing to untie the shoelaces of his dress shoes. After undoing the first one he glanced over his shoulder waiting for a response.

"I think I'm drunk." She declared.

He chuckled as he undid the laces of his other shoe. He knew she was in no way shape or form drunk. Tipsy, yes. The hazy look on her face, the flush of her cheeks, and her glassy eyes told him she'd definitely had her fair share of alcohol, but drunk? No. They would both know if she was drunk. And this is where he'd happily remind her of what _she, _ways past plastered_, _did at the lake house after all the children had gone to bed. After that night alone the Ramussen's had enough ammunition to ransom a great deal of money in exchange for keeping the incident in the dark. He was actually quite surprised Mike hadn't found out something about the whole ordeal during the campaign trail. It was probably for the best, the poor guy most definitely would've suffered a heart attack knowing what the future President of The United States and her husband had managed to do. But he reframed from bringing the story up once again, and admitted, "I had one too many flutes of champagne myself."

Henry stood, toed off his shoes, and turned to fully face his wife. "People just kept handing me glass after glass." Her back was still pressed against the door as she rambled on, her hands moved around emphasizing her point. He smiled. He certainly did find her adorable when she was a bit under the influence.

As he tugged at his tie, Henry made his way around their bed and took a few steps towards her. "Where are the kids?" He asked.

Elizabeth sluggishly rolled her head to the right, meeting his gaze. "Eating pizza and ice cream down in the mess. It seems they couldn't wait to take advantage of the top-notch chefs."

"Raised em right." Henry joked. He threw his tie onto the bed after finally getting it undone. He crossed his arms across his chest and watched as his wife began plucking bobby pin after bobby pin from her hair, dropping the clips to the floor. After a wedding or some fancy state dinner he always seemed to find the pins laying around their bedroom… this explained why.

"Some greasy pizza does sound amazing right now." She commented as she pulled another clip from her pinned up hair. It must have been one of the last ones because her golden locks fell and tumbled down onto the tops of her shoulders.

"We could go join them." Henry suggested as he took the last few steps over to Elizabeth, and gently placed his hands on the top of both her shoulders.

She shook her head. "I came up here to spend some time with you." Her voice was low as she eyed him suggestively. Henry smirked. She was usually forward with what she wanted, but tonight she seemed timid, maybe even a little bit shy. He didn't blame her. Sex in The White House intimidated him quite a bit too.

"Hhm." He sounded as his hands that previously rested atop her shoulders slid down her arms before he grabbed her hands. "You're keyed up." He felt the need to state the obvious.

She nearly moaned at the much needed contact. Although sitting through dinner together side by side, they'd barely seen each other for the rest of the night. It was torture having him so close yet so far away. "Have been since somewhere between 'oh what a night' and 'electric feel'." She admitted.

"You like those songs huh?" He whispered, his voice husky, full of want. He dipped his head slightly, lips going to work on her neck.

"When dancing with you, always." Elizabeth answered breathlessly as she raked her fingers through his hair. Her nails dug into the back of his head, ensuring his lips would stay precisely on the spot of her neck he was currently sucking on. It was hard enough to leave a mark, but she couldn't care less.

Henry grabbed at her waist pulling her hips flush against his, but the bulky fabric of her dress stood in the way. "Henry." She complained, drawing out his name when he pulled away from her.

"Turn." He commanded. She didn't dare disobey him. As soon as her back was towards him, he unzipped her dress with an urgency so great he nearly ripped the zipper from its seams. The dress toppled to the floor, leaving her standing in an incredibly thin cream colored silk slip. She heard the almost inaudible groan leave her husband's lips; she imagined he was taking the time to survey her backside.

But a second later she was being flipped around and shoved roughly against the door. Without warning, Henry lunged forward and connected their lips, hungrily kissing her. He moaned into her mouth, stepping an inch closer allowing himself to wedge his thigh in between his wife's legs.

Her tongue moved desperately against his lips, begging for entrance. She sucked in his bottom lip as her hand drifted downwards searching for the particular bulge in his dress pants.

Elizabeth pulled her lips away from their kiss when he did something particularly pleasurably. She nearly yelped when he repeated pinching the nipple of her other breast. "Oh god Henry." She moaned as his lips moved across her collarbone.

Her head fell back against the door as his left hand grazed the inside of her upper thigh. But as his hand roamed upwards under her slip she froze. "Henry." She said, all seriousness returning to her voice. He didn't even acknowledge his name. His fingernails dug into the side of her hip as he continued to kiss the base of her neck. "Henry stop." Elizabeth told him as she gently pushed him away.

"Babe?" He questioned, voice raspy. She could see the undeniable lust in his eyes, the concern written in the few wrinkles of his forehead. "What's wrong?" He asked sweetly, obviously nervous that he'd done something wrong.

She held up a finger. "Just one second." She promised. Elizabeth kicked the heap of navy blue chiffon fabric, her dress, that laid forgotten on the floor out of the way before moving over to their closet.

"Liz." Henry complained, more than confused at what his wife was up to. He watched as she disappeared into the dimly lit walk in closet. He'd glanced in their earlier, it was more of a small room than a closet. Hell, his childhood bedroom had probably been the same size.

He huffed out a laugh hearing the sigh accompanied by a high pitched 'ah god' coming from the closet. She emerged a moment later, securing the tie of her robe around her slim waist. "Whoever put our clothes away did a god-awful job." She criticized.

"Where the hell are you going?" He asked, the slightest bit annoyed.

"I told you, I'll be right back." She said as she walked towards the main entrance way and flung back the door. Three agents immediately looked towards the doorway hearing the noise. Henry followed after her, curious as to where in the world she was headed, half-dressed he may add.

She walked towards the nearest secret service agent, a younger looking man, who stood not even a whole foot away from their bedroom door. "Hi." His wife said sweetly. "I know we've probably met, but there's been quite a bit going on today. What's your name?" She asked.

"Jake McCoy ma'am." He answered firmly, seeming to stand up even straighter than before.

He watched as Elizabeth nodded, her gaze never leaving the young man's eyes. She was asserting power, he'd seen it more times than he could count. She wanted something. "Well Agent McCoy I'm feeling a bit shy tonight, and I know we don't know each other very well, but if you continue to stay put right here I'm afraid you'll be hearing more from me than you'd like." She told him, hoping he would understand, but there was no realization that plagued his face. Nothing. His eyebrows simply crinkled together in utter confusion.

Elizabeth flashed a look at the other agent posted next to their doorway; a frown was plastered on his face. "It's protocol ma'am." The older agent replied, understanding her reasoning.

She chose to ignore him. "You see Jake…" She started as she placed a hand on Agent McCoy's upper back and began to walk, leading him down the hallway. "I'm about to have extremely loud sex with my husband." She admitted. The young man blushed at her bluntness. Liz looked over her shoulder and pointed a finger at the other agent who hadn't budged from his post. "You. Come here too."

The man sighed and reluctantly followed her order. Once he took the few strides down the hallway and came to a stop in front of her she slowly began to walk backwards. "The least you can do is stand a bit further down the hallway."

"Ma'am there are certain protocols…" The older agent began, but Elizabeth held up a hand not caring about the risks of standing a few feet down the hallway opposed to directly outside their bedroom door.

"I can assure you I'll be fine. More than fine." She said as she took another few steps backwards. "And no matter what you hear, I beg you, for your sake and mine, don't come in." She added.

Henry chuckled from the doorway. Elizabeth whipped around straightaway wanting to know why he was so amused. "You'd think they'd take a hint." He told her. She smiled slightly before swiveling back around to face two of the five agents in the hallway. She stared hard at them, probably hoping they were intimidated by the glare she gave them. But their gaze wasn't fixed on her. Rather they were looking over her shoulder watching as he mouthed the word sorry and rose a pretend glass to his lips, silently telling them that she'd had a bit too much to drink. Both men gave him a warm smile, showing they understood. He was sure they'd seen and heard much worse before.

"Come here my electric girl." Henry called. Elizabeth twisted sideways, turning her head a few times from the now blank faced agents, to him, before landing her gaze on him and him alone. She squinted her eyes, probably figuring that he'd said something to the two guys. There was a brief moment of utter silence before her adorable laughter filled the hallway. She seemed to forget about whatever she had been trying so hard to figure out in her head.

"Oh I'll shock you like you won't believe." She teased seductively as she sauntered towards him. He smiled brightly, hoping to god his wife never changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Electric Feel

Chapter two

AN: This probably wasn't the chapter two you all were asking for but read it and weep.

~MS~

He falls back against the bed with a huff, completely and utterly worn out. From the early wake up call to the endless dancing, bottomless drinks, and the mind-blowing sex he'd just had with his wife, his brain was mush –he couldn't even begin to imagine how she must be feeling.

He smiles slightly as he watches her maneuver herself off of his lap, and before he can comment on her performance, she's falling face first into her pillow.

"I think I'm sober now." Her voice is muffled against her pillow.

He smirks, already leaning to his right. His lips fall upon her, lightly nipping at the bare skin of her shoulder. "Can I—" he places an opened mouth kiss on the space where her shoulder meets her neck. "—do anything—" another kiss. "—else for you Madam President?" He teases.

She turns causing him to move backwards. She lays on her side with her head resting in her hand, elbow propping her up. He mimics her pose. "You know this was the one time you're allowed to call me that in bed."

His eyes fall downwards, drifting from her eyes to her breasts –the way she's laying gives him a perfect view of her front. "Of course, Madam President." He fights off the smile, but he can't stop his lips from turning upwards.

She sits up. "Henry." She complains, drawing out his name dramatically. She eyes him, and her lips remain in that serious firm line for two seconds, three, four –and then her lips twitch and she's clearly biting the inside of her cheek attempting to hold back her smile. "Quit it." She tells him.

He throws up his hands defensively. "Quitting it now."

Her eyes meet his, and he can see that mischievous glimmer they always seem to hold when they're alone. "Good." She says sharply, but in that light flirty tone he absolutely adores.

And then she stands from their bed, leans down and then snatches her robe off the floor before walking towards the closet.

His eyes wander over her backside and— "Not even one more time?" He asks, and his voice is low just the way she likes.

Her feet freeze and she throws him a glance over her shoulder before she turns with her hands on her hips, and says, "Maybe once more won't hurt."

He chuckles. "It certainly won't hurt."

She bites her bottom lip and walks backwards into the closet, and when she's fully out of view he hears her ask, "What time is it?"

"Quarter till three."

She sighs. "I have to be up at six."

"I'm sure your morning will be pushed back." He comments as he stands and pulls on his boxers.

"Sure about that? Mike B. will be up here at five fifty-five knocking on our door." Her voice is a bit more muffled than before –she's either gone deeper into the closet or is in the midst of wrangling on a shirt.

"Last time I checked Mike B. was face down in a plate of cheesecake." Henry grabs the pair of sweats and the tee that are draped across the chair next to his nightstand. "He's probably still downstairs." He adds as he -one leg at a time- steps into the sweatpants.

"I hope you got a picture of that." She jokes. –her voice seems to be nearer now and when he looks up, she's standing in the doorway of the closet dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a Peter Frampton t-shirt. "He does deserve a day off, doesn't he?"

He quickly pulls on his shirt. "I hate to break it to you babe—" he shakes his head. "—but there's no such thing as a day off at the White House."

"No, but I could send him up to Camp David for official business." She uses her fingers to put air quotations around the last two words.

He smiles and crosses his arms across his chest. "That'll go over well with the press when your chief of staff is MIA."

"Ah ah." She warns, pointing a finger in his direction. "Acting chief of staff." She corrects.

"There's no such thing." He comments.

"Yeah well, tell that to Mike." She says as she walks towards the door. "He's already counting down till the big one hundred."

"That's Mike." He mumbles, eyebrows creased. "Where are you going?" He asks.

She smiles and claps her hands together. "To see the kids."

He eyes her. "You want that pizza."

"Yeah I do." She shamelessly admits. "But I also wouldn't mind seeing they're faces." She adds as she pulls the door open, and steps into the hall.

He quickly follows after her.

When he's by her side she links her arm with his, leans close to his ear, and whispers, "I think I may have been a bit blunt with them earlier."

He looks up, glancing towards the secret service agents who stood near the wall –their stares were towards the ground, clearly avoiding meeting their own eyes.

He chuckles softly. "I don't know, your declaration of impending 'extremely loud sex' pretty much sealed our fate for the night." He teases.

She visibly cringes. "I can blame that on the alcohol, right?"

"I already have." He says.

She opens her mouth –presumably to ask him to explain what he meant, but he's already turning towards the agent to his right, and then he asks, "Are the kids still in the mess?"

"No sir. They've all turned in for the night." Henry nods –half of him had expected them to be in bed. "But—" the agent continues. "Stephanie did bring you up a few slices of pizza." He points towards the living room connected to their bedroom. "The plate is on the table by the couch."

"Oh." Henry mutters, glancing towards his wife –her face had the same mix of concern and embarrassment as his.

"She was in the next room over?" Elizabeth questions, pointing to their right.

The agent softly smiles and slightly ducks his head. "I stopped her at the staircase. I told her you were both asleep." He says.

He feels his wife sigh. "Thank you." She mutters. "I doubt she believed that but thank you."

The agent nods as the couple takes the few steps down the hallway, and as they move closer to the door that leads to the living room another agent –agent McCoy— has already opened the door for the pair.

"Thanks Jake." Henry utters as they walk through the doorway.

He looks a bit red in the cheeks as he says, "Sir. Madam President."

And when the door shuts behind them Elizabeth turns to him and– "He's never gonna be able to look me in the eyes again."

He laughs. "That very well may be true."

His comment earns him a slap to the arm. "It's not funny." She says. "And it's your fault." She adds.

"Me?" His voice raises in disbelief. "How is this my fault? You're the one who strutted out into the hallway."

"You should have stopped me." She argues as she makes her way towards the coffee table –she seems to study the slices of pizza for a moment before picking the piece that looks the best to her.

"Me? Stop you?"

She nods as she takes a bite of the cheese pizza.

He shakes his head at her and follows her over towards the couch –they sit side by side.

"This is really good." She tells him.

He leans forwards, pulls the plate towards him, and like her he chooses a slice of plain cheese. He takes a bite, swallows, and—"It's the greasy kind. Just what you like."

As he takes another bite, she scoots closer to his side –he transfers the slice of pizza to his left hand so he's able to wrap his right arm around her.

She rests her head against his shoulder, and– "Sometimes I wish we could do things like this every night." He hears her mumble. And for a moment his heart speeds up, thinking she's beginning to have regrets over this job even before her first day.

"You really like staying up this late?"

She gazes up at him. "If I'm spending time with you." He gives her a half smile and squeezes her side. "Promise me—" she takes the last bite of her pizza. "—promise me we'll have at least one crazy…"

"Crazy?" He questions.

She chuckles. "Okay crazy may not be the right word." She says. She licks her lips and then—"Promise me we'll have one night to ourselves each month where we can stay up eating greasy pizza, or… or run down the halls of the west wing after everyone's gone." She lays her right hand against his chest. "Promise me we'll make time for each other."

He wonders where this is coming from. They'd talked about how this job could put strain on their relationship, but they also discussed how they would prevent that from happening –it must be the reality of it all, of actually being here. "I promise." He whispers.

She sighs and nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck.

"You wanna do something fun?" She mutters after a moment of quiet.

He leans forward, -causing her to sit up straight- throws the crust down on the plate, and as he sits back against the couch, he brushes his hands together to remove the leftover crumbs. He eyes her suspiciously before asking, "Like what?"

She smiles brightly and pulls her legs up under her excitedly. "Blueberry pancakes."

"Blueberry pancakes?"

"Do I need to say more?" She teases.

As she stands from the couch, he shakes his head. "I'm more than sure Cindy is already home and asleep."

"We don't need Cindy." She replies and then turns and crosses the room.

He stands and follows. "No…" he says. "Elizabeth, no."

"Oh, yes." She tells him –she's almost to the door when he stops her by grabbing her arm. She turns and he once again can see that all too familiar glimmer in her eyes.

"Yeah, hijacking the White House chef's kitchen at—" He glances at the clock hanging on the far wall. "—at 3:06 am sounds like an absolute blast." He jokes.

She smiles. "Great let's go."

Her hand is on the doorknob when he says, "Those guys are gonna wanna come with you." He jabs his thumb in the direction of the hallway –in the direction of where more than a handful of Secret Service agents stand.

She backs away from the main door. "We don't want that." She seems to think for a moment before announcing, "So we won't tell them."

He gasps mockingly. "Daring. What's next, sex on the Truman Balcony?" He teases.

Her eyes seem to light up, and then— "That's a fabulous idea."

His eyes widen. "You scare me Elizabeth McCord." He says lowly.

She laughs in the back of her throat. "Let's go." She says, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the side door.

"But…" He trails off –he'd never been the rule follower of the pair, it was just something about being here.

"Since when do I need to convince you on pancakes?" She asks. "Don't worry about them—" She points towards the hallway. "—We'll bring them back a stack and call it even." She says as she drags him down the back staircase.

"It doesn't surprise me you were in intelligence." He comments as he lets her lead him down to the mess. Afterall, they only had eight –maybe even only four years here. May as well have a little fun at night. The work can wait till the mornings.

AN: Hope all my readers are doing well, and -like always- staying safe and healthy. I hope this story (well second chapter) brings a little joy to your day.


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